A Thin Line Between
by B.N.Bennett
Summary: Vera Atkins lives in peace until The Butcher comes a 'calling' to turn Vera's world upside down. Soon the Colonel finds out her fathers' true loyalites and decides that Vera must pay for her father's treason. Her sentence: To be Tavington's mistress!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do **not **own **any**thing you **recognize**, including Tavington (a pity), Bordon, O'Hara, etc..etc..etc.. I **do** own Vera Atkins and the rest of the Atkins family._

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Chapter 1

Ever wonder why love makes the world turn? Why hate is just a fine line away from such a revered emotion such as love? I have asked myself those two questions many times over the years. Why? That's an easy answer. My husband. My husband was the sole reason for those two insistent questions in my life. Again why? For about three months, my husband was my jailor. After that he was my lover, yet he was still the jailor of my body, in a more pleasurable way, and heart. Even now with his ring on my finger, his eldest grandchild in my lap, he was my ruination and salvation. Since the day I met him I have hated him for what he did to me. From the first stare of his icy blue eyes, my life was turned upside down and rolled sideways many times over the years. Despite my hatred, however, I loved him just as much for he gave me a new life. One that was better than the one I thought I was destined for.

My life with my husband was rarely quiet. He had and still does have too much passion and fire blazing inside him, despite his cool exterior, to be satisfied sitting on a porch and staring at the scenery. He had so much fire and drive that even at the age of seventy eight, he was playing vigorously with his grandsons and granddaughter, Aidan. Dear little Aidan. The only child of our eldest, who sadly, along with his wife, left us in a horrible fashion, had only been one year old. Our Aidan, as we call her, for she has been our little angel. Our last child so to speak. She's been with us for six years now. My husband was wrapped around her little pinky and he knew it. If only the men, who had feared and loathed my husband in our past, could see him now. A teddy bear. Gruff, yet soft hearted with just one look from those green eyes so like mine. Everyone says she's my spitting image. My little image and my husband adored her for she was only one out of our children and grandchildren to have my red hair, hers being a shade or two lighter than my rich as blood locks as my husband has called them since the day we met.

Ah, that caught your interest. The day we met was interesting and quite strange by any standards. Now I imagine by your eager expression you want to hear the story, but may I ask you something? Yes? Would you like to hear the whole story? Yes? Very well! Make yourself comfortable, my dear, for our story is long and emotional. Now where to begin... Ah, yes, The day my husband and I met...

I was nineteen at the time and was very serious for my age. I was unmarried and in England, I would have been on the shelf, so to speak, and would have been called a spinster. I was living with my family helping with the younger children and housework. I also did many of my fathers' chore's because hehad beenaway at war at that time. He was a Colonel in the Continental Army and a very good one at that, having served in the French and Indian war. So since he was away, most of the responsibility has fallen to me for my dear mother had a ..._weak_ heart. I have always said it was lazy bones that kept her in bed, but despite my misgivings on her health, I was the one who ran the house and watched the younger children with the help of my younger brother, who wasjust fourteen. His age being the reason he wasn't allowed to go along to war with my father and older brother, Sawyer. It also fell upon me to do the finances which were fairly low, but enough for our family despite our size and my mother wants. We had a couple horses for travel and field work, some chickens and pigs, and had a well tended garden.

It was on a humid day that I knelt in the dirt of that well tended garden, picking vegetables for supper, while my siblings played around the house and my mother slept inside the house. It was a few hours after noon when I heard the distant sounds of hoof beats. I stood quickly, listening closely with butterflies in my stomach, trying to stave off the panic and fear that was trying to cloud my mind. My brothers and sisters stopped playing to gather around me, literally clinging to my skirts. I looked down into their anxious faces and quickly looked at the eldest in the group my brother Theodore.

"Go get Papa's muskets," I told him as I herded my siblings inside. I knelt to their level inside the house, putting on a calm serious face. "I want all of you to go to my room and be very quiet. This isn't a game. Do you understand?" They all nodded, faces solemn and scared, making my heart squeeze painfully for them. I kissed them quickly before shooing them up the stairs, the youngest one being carried as Theodore came from the study two muskets in hand. I smiled at him gently and captured him in a tight hug. He, for once, didn't fight, but hugged back just a tightly. We parted and moved out onto the porch, listening to hoof beats. My musket rested on my right side as Theodore stood on my left, musket by his side, ready to lifted and shot at a moment's notice. Soon, too soon, horses thundered and bursted through the trees to slow and gather in front of our home. Theodore cursed colorfully under his breath, but I didn't reprimand him for I wanted to do the same. British soldiers sat upon their horses on our land and not just any soldiers. No, here before us stood the British Green Dragoons.

"Be silent, Theo." I warned him as three horses with riders upon them broke away from the rest to come closer.

"We are commandeering this house and land in the name of the Crown and King George." The soldier in the middle commanded coldly as he looked down at us from his aquiline nose.

I straightened my back and stared up at him sternly. "You're welcome to a quarter of the livestock and any vegetables you need you may pick. There's a stream behind the house to wash up in and to water the horses. Food for the horses is found in the barn. Officers may stay in the house and may use the kitchen to cook if I'm not cooking." I stated firmly, refusing to be cowed. I prayed that my father would understand that the lives of my siblings were first priority over any or all beliefs.

The middle man laughed scornfully down at me. "You think you can give orders? You gain foolish bravery from just two muskets, my dear girl," He sneered the endearment, "We shall do as we please!"

The soldiers, behind the three, laughed and leered at me. I stiffened with loathing and not just a little fear. We had two women, one fourteen year old, and four children. They would do what they wanted. No onewas here tostop them. I swiftly stamped down the fear and doubt, knowing that I needed to be firm, even if it would get me killed. They wouldn't hurt children. Or would they? I refused to answer or to seek one.

I smiled grimly before turning to go inside the house, refusing to acknowledge what he said with words, even though I'm sure my fear had shown, if only momentarily.

"Come, Theo." I waited for my brother to walk inside before following, back tensed and straight as if expecting a physical blow. Inside the house I whispered to Theo, "Take your musket and go to my room. Try to keep the children calm."

"What about you? I saw how they looked at you!" Theo cried angrily as we climbed the stairs. I quickly hushed him and pulled him into a fierce hug. It was suppose to be for his comfort, but I had to admit it was for mine. I was terrified. What was going to happen? It was a question that I loathed thinking about. The answer was unknown and the unknown was terrifying.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine. Now go!" I released him and shooed him towards my room before heading to my mother's room. I opened the door and slipped inside as my ears picked up the sound of the front door opening and spurs clicking on the floor. I faced my mother to find her sitting up in bed, obviously waiting for my arrival.

"Who is it, Vera?" My mother asked, smoothing the blankets against her legs.

"British Green Dragoons are here. You need to get dressed, Mother. Quickly!" I snapped when she didn't move to get out of bed. I went to one of her chests and pulled out a gown for her, watching her slow progress out of bed. At that point I was tempted to scream in sheer frustration at her alone. Forget the Dragoons, she was pissing me off. I tossed her the dress and walked to the door, listening closely. There! Spurs on the stairs. I cursed vehemently, relieving the tension in my body.

"Vera!" My mother cried from behind me. It was clear from her tone that she was appalled at my language. I grinned at the door before calling steadily over my shoulder, "Hurry, Mother."

I opened the door and slipped into the hall just as the middle soldier reached the landing. I hurried over to him, keeping a nice distance, but kept my body between him and my room. He raised an eyebrow at me as I was blocking his path.

"How many officers?" I asked shortly, hands folded in front of me primly.

"Two other than me," he replied, watching me closely. I shifted on my feet, unsettled at the blue stare.

"Well, then the other two shall have the boys' room for it has two beds. You may have my bedroom." I said nervously, not liking the cold amusement in his eyes.

He made a tisking sound, smiling pleasantly as if we were good friends and were having the best of times.

"My dear, I shall have the master bedchamber." He said smoothly, even as he gracefully sidestepped me and headed for my parent's bedchamber. Quickly, I scrambled in front of him and quite dramatically (we laugh about it years later) threw my body against the door, arms stretched out from my sides, barring his way. The infernal eyebrow rose again as he smiled as he looked suggestively at my display.

"As... tempting as the invitation is, my dear, I'm afraid I'll decline..."

"...for now." He drawled, eyes roving over my body. I swallowed thickly, ignoring my body's reaction to his heated stare.

"You'll have to wait a bit before you can have it. The bed chamber, I mean!" I stammered unsteadily for he was standing too close to ignore the heat of his body as well as his scent, which was a cross between pine, sandalwood, and male combined with the smell of sweat, smoke, and, I cringed inwardly, blood. Too say the least, my head was swimming and I didn't like it. No man had ever aroused me in this way. It was intense, clenching, and very confusing.

I pressed myself closer to the door, only to stumble back as it opened.

"Oh my! Why are you blocking the door, Vera?" My mother asked, flustered and confused. She seemed to find her own answer as her dark eyes caught the man's blue eyes.

"Oh my! I'm sorry to keep you waiting! I was indisposed this morning. Will you be staying for night?" My mother simpered.

I sneered, abruptly coming out of my heated daze as he stared at my mother. Green light was swimming around the eges of my vision, but I refused to acknowledge jealousy over my mother and a British Dragoon.

"He is, along with the rest of the Dragoons, staying the night . He'll have the master bedchamber while the other two officers take the boy's room." I answered for him, arms crossed tightly in front of me.

He glanced over at me, eyes filled with spiteful amusement as a smirk found it's way across his mouth. I sniffed disdainfully and walked by them both, trying to ignore the feel of the man's eyes on me.

"Vera, where are the children?" My mother asked, freezing me at the top of the stairs.

"My bedchamber." I answered shortly. "They'll remain there for now until I deem it otherwise."I began descending the stairs when the man's voice reached my ears.

"I want hot water to clean up with along with some towels."

I gritted my teeth and continued down the stairs, furious at him, my mother, and myself. Him for being here, for makingmy body come alive, and for looking atmy mother. My mother for being an indifferent mother, for even thinking and looking at the British officer while was married to a man, who adored her. Me... I was furious at myself for my body's reaction to such a man.

I stomped into the kitchen and started venting out my anger. I banged, or at least tried to, a bucket of water on to the stove to heat and stood glaring at it sourlyas my mother sailed into the kitchen. I ignored her as I began preparing supper. I now had three extra mouthsto cook for. Joy!

"My isn't he handsome? And those eyes?" My mother crooned, fanning herself with her hand.

I grunted inelegantly and sneered as I savagely chopped lettuce. My mother glided over to the stove to peer over the rim of the bucket. "Is it hot enough?" she asked, innocently.

"Stick your finger in it and see?" I suggested half meanly, half jokingly. I should have known better, but... God was it funny!

To my utter amazement and dismay, she did as I suggested. She yelped, pulling it back from the scalding water to place the injured digit into her mouth, whimpering. I just stared at her in disbelief as shespoke around her finger. "It's hot enough."

I rolled my eyes as I wetted a rag in one of the cooler buckets, and pulled her finger from her mouth to wrap the cool rag around it. I turned to the bucket on the stove and grabbed a nearby towel to grip the handle and lift it from the stove. I held the hot bucket with one hand and bent down to lift a cooler bucket from the floor to the stove. I turned to my mother and told her to look at me. "Watch the water. Don't stick your finger in it. Just grab a towel and lift it off the... Wait! Just don't touch _anything at all_! Understand?"

She nodded, pouting at her finger. I slowly turned and made my way out of the kitchen, balancing the bucket of scalding water. It was slow progress up the stairs, but all too soon I was at the landing turning carefully and heading to the master bedchamber. In front of the door, a knocked shortly before opening it. Of course, me being me, didn't wait for a 'enter.' I just walked on in. You would've too if you had been holding a bucket full of hot water. Now as I entered the room, my attention was on the bucket therefore completely unaware that a bare chested officer stood watching me with ill disguised amusement as I navigated around with my bucket. I lifted and poured the water into my parent's wash bowl as carefully as I was able not to spill to any water on to the stand or me. However, none of us, especially me, are perfect. My gown got a healthy splash as well as the stand.

When the bowl was full, I placed the now lighter bucket on the floor before turning and smacking right in to a large and warm body. I leapt back, narrowly missing another splash from the wash bowl as I stared wide eyed at the bare chested male before me.

"Do you like what you see, my dear?"The bare chested male purred, eyelids dropping over blue eyes that held the ever present male amusement and ego.

I made some noise in my throat as an answer as he moved closer. His movement seemed to wake me up for I suddenly darted around him before backing away from the man.

"Nice try, Sir. I'm not a shrinking violet nor a whore eager for any man, let alone you. Keep your distance, Sir, and your stay will be more pleasant." As I talked, my hands were searching behind me for the door, then the doorknob, which I turned hard and wrenched the door open even harder before slipping out of the room into the hallway. I shut the door quietly and leaned my forehead against the door, letting a ragged sigh of relief...or... disappointment? Part of me didn't want to know which, but oh how, deep down, I wanted it to the latter. The man on the other side of the door spelled danger and how like a naive country girl like me to be attracted to such a man. Partly, I was ashamed. I was betraying my father and my country for even liking the enemy in any way, let alone lusting after him. I rolled my head gently against the doorgroaning slightly. What a mess! The only thing to do was to steer clear of the man and any other British man dressed in red posted outside my home. Even as I thought this I knew that the grip that the officer had of me was powerful and that no matter how hard I was fighting and was going to fight, it would make no difference for even as I stand there outside the door, I knew that I was losing the battle, damn me if I was going to lose the war.

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A/N: Well, what do you think? Good? Bad? Improvement? Any mistakes or bloopers? REVIEW, if you can't get the hint! (LOL) 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

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Chapter 2

"Vera? Are you all right?"

I jumped away from the door and stared blankly at Theodore, who was watching me with concern._ The sweet boy_, I thought. I walked over to him and grasped his shoulders firmly and hustled him down the stairs, not wanting the British Officer to overhear our conversation.

"I'm fine. Now, we'll be sleeping in the girl's bedchamber while Mother sleeps in mine. The officer has confiscated hers and papas' for the time being." I explained. "Mother is in the kitchen now with a burned finger and I want you to go and rub some aloe on it. Please?"

He gave me a short glance, telling me he wasn't buying my 'fine', but did as he was told by going in to the kitchen. As I watched him, the sound of a throat being cleared sounded behind me causing me to turn quickly in it's direction near the front door. In the doorway stood two officers, watching me. I studied them, mostly their eyes and found them to be decent. They weren't leering and didn't have the chillness of the other officer about them.

"Gentlemen, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to the room you shall be sharing. I'll bring up some hot water for you both, so you can wash up before supper." I said pleasantly as I turned and marched up the stairs. Again!

"My name is Miss. Atkins. My mother is Missus and yes, there are children here. I shall keep them occupied and out of your way to the best of my ability, but keep in mind that they are children and are prone to be loud." I reached the tops of the stairs and pointed to the boys' bedchamber. "That is your room. There are two beds. The water will be up shortly. Supper will be served in an hour or so. Come down whenever you feel like it."

I turned and went back down the stairs to the kitchen where I found Theodore looking at our mother disgustedly. I guessed she had continued parroting the first officers fine physical attributes. Sighing silently, I looked down at the floor where only two buckets of water sat, ready to be used for the cooking and cleaning tonight. I knew in the morning I would have to go outside to the creek for more to be used for breakfast, dishes and morning shaves, yet I truly wanted to cringe away from the idea of walking among the red coats. Hell, I cringed at the thought of walking among Continental soldiers as well, but theses redcoats were even more dangerous then any side of regular army. These soldiers were commanded by the officer upstairs in my parent's bedchamber, the very officer, who scared me beyond measure for his hold of my body and his hold on the lives of my family. That officer held a lot of power, a lot of control. Control being the thing that I had always had over everyone, except my father. My hunger for control was what keep me unmarried and unattractive to many men and me not attracted to them for their arrogant ways and ideas about what women should do and not do. Control was what that officer upstairs took away from my hands to wield it against me in a physical way. A way I had absolutely no control in, just as I had no control over the men inside or out from hurting my family or myself.

Rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension, I turned to face Theodore, who was pretending to gag from behind our mother's back. I fought a smile as I lifted the bucket of hot water off the stove with towel from my apron pocket. I turned to look at Theodore again.

"Theo, please take this bucket up to your room. The officers are waiting."

Theodore walked over and took it, towel in all, but not without complaining.

"Why can't they come down and get it? They have two legs and we're not slaves to be ordered about!" Theodore whined mildly as he carefully dodged my swatting hand.

"Out with you, Theodore Conroy Atkins! Shoo!" I ordered, smiling. He grinned and left me with our mother. Ignoring, I busied myself with getting a pot and grabbed a sack of potatoes. I sat down at the table far from my mother as possible (which wasn't far at all, unfortunately) and began to peel potatoes for supper. As I peeled, I was aware of my mother watching me closely, waiting for...something.

"You're a pretty girl, Vera. Why aren't you wedded, bedded, and enjoying motherhood?" She didn't wait for my answer. "I know why. Your father! That man adores you and refused to let you go." She shook her head, silent now as she watched me peel the potatoes.

"Papa hasn't forbidden me to marry. He would love to see me happily married with children, his grandchildren, but I just haven't been tempted to marry and give up the freedom so generously given to me by Papa. No man near us has appealed to me or me to him. I'm not in a hurry to marry, Mother, plus I'm needed here. Blossom is only one and still needs more care than you can give." _Or ever will give_,' I finished silently. I looked up at her from my peeling, stifling a smirk at her stunned expression. I imagine she didn't think I would mention her neglect of caring for her own children. 'Spoiled witch.' I thought darkly.

I finished the potatoes and stood with the pot full of peeled and sliced potatoes before walking over to the stove, where I placed the pot. I bent and picked up the bucket of water to pour a fair amount into the pot before setting the bucket back down on the floor. I left potatoes to boil and went into our small pantry to unhook a chicken all ready plucked from earlier in the day. I went back tot he table with a bigger pot than before and which I placed on the table and placed the chicken inside it. I arranged the chicken's limbs before going to the open cabinets to take out the spices that had cost a small fortune, but was our personal indulgence since my father gladly let me take over the cooking when I was old enough.

Sprinkling the spices onto the chicken now, I began to quietly hum a song my father had taught me. After adding the spices, I picked up the pot and carried it to the stove, as I grabbed a towel from a nearby stand before opening the latch where the fire and the wood resided. I slid the pot inside over top the handcrafted tray that my father had made for me. I shut the latch and walked back to the pantry to gather a basket of peas that needed to be shelled for supper. I walked back into the kitchen to see Theodore walking in a slight scowl on his face. I sighed quietly as I sat the basket on the table. I hoped he hadn't had a run in with the first officer.

"Theo, go upstairs and tell the children to grab a toy and to come down into the family room to play." I instructed him as I sat down near my baskets of unshelled peas.

He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it when he noticed the mother was still in the kitchen. Instead, he nodded and walked back out of the kitchen to return upstairs, this time to retrieve the other children. I shook my head and began shelling the peas, still ignoring my blessedly silent mother, who at that moment stood and walked out of the kitchen as she said called airily over he shoulder, " I'll be in the study."

I continued my task, singing and occasionally humming if I forget the words of the song, completely unconcerned about my _'helpless and dim-witted_' mother being in my fathers' study. Soon I heard several feet on the stairs as well as stifled whispers. I smiled as the family room door shut loudly before muted exclamations were heard from behind the closed door. I soon relaxed, soothed by the sounds of the children bickering and playing nearby. As I sat shelling the peas, my mind began to wonder to the men upstairs. The two in the boys' room has seemed friendly enough. Polite, yet no warmth to speak of. One had been stocky and broad-shouldered as well as on the short side, while the other was taller and leaner. The stocky fellow hadlight hair almost redhair and blue eyes, while the other was dark haired and eyed. Thedark onelooked familiar. A loyalist fighting for the King? More in likely. I just hoped that he didn't recognize our name. A name frequently linked with the word independence among friend or foe. Foes called us traitors, but patriot was and is the word my father favored. Noble and proud he had said. That was what he thought of the word that he called himself. The word that he put his full faith into, but was his faith blind? Blind to reality? Reality being tyranny? Tyranny from a man three thousand miles away, yet had the power to crush us. Was crushing us!

I didn't know the answer and again I was afraid of knowing the answer that could make or break my father and I along with the rest of the family. However, we are stubborn, my father and I, as mules refusing to be broken to move, no matter how hard we are beaten or how hard we fall for we would rise again from the ground for more.

Defiance. Defy the rule of a tyrant. Defy the box we were being forced into. Defy the denial for our voice, our freedom was our goal, our aim. A large aim, yes, but why not? Why aim small when the risk was the same? This aim meant different things to many. Independence for some. Freedom for others and a world of dreams for many others. For my father it was all three: An _independent_ country where there was _freedom_ to _dream_. My father was the dreamer. He was the man that invented things. Things for easier life. Easier ways for field and house work (thanks to my naggin). My father, however, needed materials that costed high or decent prices, but now couldn't buy them thanks to the high tariffs.

As far as I can remember my father has always been seen tinkering with something. He lived to tinker and invent. He was his passion. A passion that I understood. I knew why he went to fight again, but this time against the people he had fought for. I understood him for I had my own passion. I wanted freedom. Oh, how I craved it. My father let me taste and run with it for nineteen years and I didn't want to give it up. I refused. I refused to give up my freedom for any for I knew that every man would try to constrict me in some way. I refused totone downmy independence to make my suitor or husband feel manly because of the feminine wills they favor among the weak-willed females. I also refused to give over the control of my voice and body. It came down to control. I controlled my life and I refused to have some man, who thought he knew best, to control it and me for me.

My father fought for us both and I helped the Continental wounded and starved when they passed through. _'As well as the British apparently,' _taunted a voice. I scowled as I finished my shelling. _'I feed and shelter those men for the protection of my family.'_ I argued firmly as I rose from my chair to check on the chicken. It wasn't ready. I stood and stirred the potatoes with a spoon that had been resting on the stand nearby. I turned away and walked over to a pitcher, which I picked up and brought back to the stove, where I poured the white content into the pot of potatoes. I replaced the pitcher and grabbed a chunk of butter, which I eased into the pot of the potatoes, where the butter sunk to melted at the bottom. I began stirring again, but stopped as a sound caught my ears. Boots! On the stair landing. Now on the stairs!

I stood frozen, listening to the boots, praying that he wouldn't disturb and scare the children. I was holding my breath and it came whooshing out as the boots neared the kitchen, passing the suddenly silent family room. _'They must have heard him too._' I thought, forcing myself to began stirring again. I had my eyes on the pot as the boots stopped near the kitchen entryway. There was silence. I breathed deeply and evenly as I stirred, trying to ignore the officer standing at the door. The silence and waiting grated on my nerves before finally he moved. I listened as he walked into the kitchen and apparently pulled out a chair as it scraped on the floor. There was again silence as, I assumed, he sat. I stopped stirring for now they just needed to be mashed. Setting down the spoon, I grabbed the ever present towel and wrapped it around the pot so I could lift it down. I turned, stonily focusing on the sink, as I walked towards it. I poured out the water, without dumping potatoes, well without dumping more than a few before turning again...towards the table, where _he_ sat. I approached the opposite side of the table from him and sat down the pot. I was hesitant to walk over to the stove to grab the hanging mallet from over the stove, butI did it despite having to pass by him. Unfortunately, on the journey back a steely grip of a hand grabbed by the arm and tugged me sideways and down into a hard seated body. An arm clamped around my hips and waist anchoring me down into his lap. In anger, I twisted and wriggled, raising the mallet, only for it to be grabbed and wrested from me. He throw it across the table and quickly grabbed my hands and banded them together behind my back with one of his. I, in vain, tugged and twisted as he chuckled above my bowed head as my futile attempts. Beyond anger and, plainly terrified beyond human common sense, I lifted my head, snarling.

"Let go of me, you vile animal!" I hissed, not wanting to alarm the children with raised voices.

He laughed at my anger before answering, "I don't think so, my dear. I've found myself thinking about your invitation from upstairs. I think I'll take you up on it now."

I drew back as far as I could, horrified and ashamed as I blushed brightly from my hairline and down. He noticed and followed the flush of red down my bodice.

"Stop it! It wasn't an invitation and you know it, you insufferable pig." I spat at him.

He tsked at me as his arm released my waist only to bring his hand up to caress my collarbone and the top of my breasts, that were visible above the bodice. I gritted my teeth, fighting tears of frustration and disgust at my reaction. My body shivered at the touch of his calloused fingers as my eyes went to half mast.

"I think I'll save this for later." He whispered close to my ear.

My eyes snapped open in horror as I began to struggle anew. He made no move to stop me from moving and I soon discovered why. As I moved, I moved against a bulge that was now incessantly poking my bottom through his breeches and my skirt and petticoats. I stopped realizing what it was. I stared at his amused face, seeing the arousal in his now not so cold eyes. My breath caught as he moved his face closer, a smile on his lips as they neared my own, which were parted as they drew ragged breath into my suddenly air depraved lungs. I heard my heart thundering in my ears even as he placed his lips gently onto mine. I was sure he could hear how hard my heart was beating as he softly moved his lips on mine, encouraging and surprisingly gentle. I had thought he would be brutal, taking what he wanted and not caring for me or my pleasure. I was wrong. So deliciously wrong.

I began to respond to his kiss after the initial shock faded as desire steadily arose inside me and in between us. He made a sound in his throat of approval as he slid a hand behind my neck, tilting my neck and head towards him and his delicious lips. He took my bottom lip into his mouth and suckled gently then strongly as I moaned faintly as the pleasure spread and centered down into one place. I tugged my bound hands and he released them. I slid both behind his neck to bring him closer, pressing against him. He groaned deep in his throat before suddenly taking my mouth hungrily. His tongue, to my confusion, traced my lips before sliding into my mouth to caress and entice my own into playing. I gripped him tighter and dueled with him, each trying to be the dominant one. A hand traced up my back making my body shiver and press closer to his, where my breasts pressed, suddenly aching, against his chest. As I shivered, my nipples shifted against him causing white hot desire to knife through me. Our kiss broke, the need for oxygen finally paramount over pleasure, leaving us panting and hot as we eyed each other. The hand at my neck shifted up and tangled into my hair, which it gripped and pulled, baring my throat to him. He bent his dark head and attacked my neck feverishly. Teeth and tongue scraped, bite and soothed my neck above my rapid pulse. His mouth shifted and moved to the skin that joined neck and shoulder, where he suckled gentle and hard, making me cry out as I gripped him, pressing him closer. My eyes were closed, my mouth open as I panted and moaned to him my pleasure. The pleasure that only he has ever given me. I was for once mindless and out of control. I was his at the moment. Only his as he played my body. I was so lost that I forgot about the children and my mother, all who were nearby in other rooms, yet surely could have heard us. So lost I was that I didn't hear the footsteps of boots on the stairs, but he did.

One minute I was in his arms, frenzied with passion and need and the next I was sitting on the floor, breathless and confused. He was standing and staring down at me as I stared back, both of us breathing hard and heavy as the footsteps came closer.

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A/N: Well, here's chapter 2. Tell me what ya think. And Thanks to all my reviewers. I appreicate it! 

Colonel-Tavingtons-girls- THANK YOU!

bizziebee- Thanks again!

sasha- Thanks a bunch!

ana- Thanks a whole lot for the review and the advice.


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